What Is And What Will Always Be
by Kailene
Summary: "What the hell, Dean !" Sam's yell reverberated off the piles of junk vehicles. Icy fingers gripped Dean's heart as he instantly recognized Sam's anger for what is was...and he wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: What Is and What Will Always Be

**Author**: Kailene

**Summary: **The Mother of All is dead. They should be celebrating, right? So why is Sam so furious at Dean? And once Dean gets to the bottom of Sam's anger, is that it? Or is there something more going on?

Just a bit of angsty, upset Sam and big-brother Dean…'cause September is too far away!

**Author's Note 1:** This was written for two reasons. The first one is that after watching 6.19, _Mommy Dearest, _I just couldn't believe that Sam would just let slide what Dean had done. So this is a tag of sorts to that episode and contains spoilers up until that point.

The second being I needed an outlet for the frustration that has been growing regarding my minivan. That van has given me nothing but trouble since I got the damn thing home and if I didn't do something, _I _was going to take a tire iron to it. So I figured, hey, Dean took out his frustrations on the Impala once…I'll have Sam help me with mine. So I wrote it into the story…I feel so much better now! :)

So, the little bunny wouldn't leave me alone…and this is the result. It's not exactly how I had pictured it, but once I started writing, well…Sam and Dean decided that this is where they wanted it to go. And we all know just how stubborn and set in their ways the boys are. It ended up being longer than I expected (per usual with me), so I split it up into two chapters.

**Author's Note 2:** I have to thank the wonderful and lovely Ceillean for giving this the once over and catching all my mistakes, as well all the great advice she provided. Hugs Sweetie!

~ SPN ~

It didn't take long to locate Sam amongst the towering stacks of crushed and rusted out old vehicles piled around the Salvage Yard.

The shattering of glass had given him away instantly.

Dean made sure to stop well outside of the debris field and leaned up against the trunk of a beat up old Mustang. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket and crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself a bit more comfortable as he watched his younger brother pace in front of him like a caged lion. The old rusted tire iron he was swinging back and forth was clenched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles were white from the effort. Even through two shirts, Dean could see the muscles in his younger brother's back bunched taut.

Dean wasn't surprised by the outburst. He had been expecting it. He was only surprised that it had taken his brother this long to erupt.

With him, Sam and Bobby all trading off, they had made the seventeen hundred mile trip from Oregon back to South Dakota in less than twenty hours. It was by unspoken agreement that they had all kept the conversation light, none of them wanting to delve further into the possible implications of Cas knowing that the bones he'd burned weren't Crowley's.

Or what that could possibly mean for all their futures.

Sam had joined in on the conversations, had even tossed a couple of his own topics into the ring of discussion. He had hid his inner turmoil well; if it had been anyone but Sam, the older Winchester might have missed it. But Dean had always been able to see right through him, he had known it was all just pretense. A forced veil of exterior calm and normalcy.

Well, normal according to the Winchester scale, at least.

He had said just enough, done all the right things, so as to distract his older brother from realizing he was brooding about something.

Sam should know better by now.

There's nothing that they could hide from one another.

"That's quite the remodel job you've done on that Windstar, dude," Dean said casually.

Every window of the blue minivan was smashed. The hole in the front windshield had a perfect imprint of the tire iron, the cracks leafed off in all directions making it look like a giant spider had spun her web in the glass. The grill lay in pieces on the ground. The headlights, and taillights as well Dean would hazard a guess to say, were smashed. Dents to numerous to count littered the doors and hood. Not one part of the vehicle seemed to be untouched.

"I think you missed a spot, though." Dean remarked offhandedly, pointing to the driver's side mirror even though he knew his brother couldn't see the gesture.

Sam stopped mid-swing, not surprised at all by his brother's presence behind him. He glanced at the mirror to his left, instinctively knowing that was where his older brother had pointed. Feet planted firmly in the dirt, Sam twisted his upper body, swinging the tire iron up over his shoulder and then let loose with all the pent up frustration he had.

Dean blew out a low whistle as he watched the mirror sail through the air, landing three quarters of the way across the yard, the clanging and rattling echoing in the distance as it tumbled down through the heaps of cars. "We should send you out to the Majors, we'd make a fortune."

Sam whirled around quickly, his mouth set in a tight line and his eyes hard as he glared at his older brother. Dean raised his hands in a placating gesture, then ran his thumb and forefinger across his mouth, effectively locking his lips shut with an imaginary zipper.

Dean didn't say another word. The last thing he wanted to do was to further enrage his already infuriated kid brother. He knew Sam as well as he knew himself, and intuitively understood what made the kid tick. The harder you pushed Sam for answers, the more he would pull away. Give him his space and a little time and he would start the conversation for you. That was something that their dad had never learned.

Dean was torn from his thoughts by movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched as wispy clouds of dry dirt settled around the tire iron that had been unceremoniously tossed aside.

He glanced back to Sam who still stood with his back towards him. The only movement was the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took deep breaths in an attempt to get himself back under some semblance of control. Dean knew that he was being partially successful as he watched the corded muscles in his younger brother's neck and arms relax slightly.

Dean bided his time, he knew it wouldn't be long now.

"My first thought," Sam said suddenly, then huffed out an almost manic laugh, "well, not my _first _thought, cause that probably wouldn't've gone over too well…was _why_?

But then I realized that was stupid, ya know. I already knew why; desperation, out of options and all that stupid shit."

Sam's tone was eerily calm, but Dean knew there was a storm brewing on the horizon and he was just waiting for it's full fury to be unleashed.

Sam finally turned around to look at his older brother. Some where, some time, Dean had heard the phrase _the eyes are the windows to your soul, _probably from some Angel that had meddled in their lives at some point. Dean was confident that saying had been invented specifically with his brother in mind.

Sam's eyes were always so full of life. Always held so much expression in their hazel depths. With one glance, Dean could tell his frame of mind, his very mood; see his true feelings reflected there.

Now was no different.

Dean saw a dozen different emotions swimming in them right now, each one warring for the top spot and a chance to be let free. Anger, on the brink of fury, and frustration Dean had expected to see; but it was the anxiety, bordering on worry and panic that sent a bolt of fear straight through Dean.

Dean ran his hand across his stubbled chin, the events of the last week whipping through his mind, as he searched furiously for anything…any clue...that would help him understand what had happened, what he had missed, that would have upset his brother like this.

And it's not like there wasn't a lot to choose from.

Winchester luck had struck again and things had gone from bad to worse to disastrous.

Sure, they had killed the Mother of All. But not before she had used an entire town as her own personal beta test subjects for her monster of the week project; or seeing yet another monster take on the visage of their mother to try and force them into a deal; and then there was the one seemingly bright spot of the entire screwed up hunt that had ended with tragic and heartbreaking results.

It had been like peering into a looking glass when they had come across Ryan and his big brother Joe. Dean would never admit out loud to having feeling, let alone one's he undoubtedly would tease Sam with and tell him he was being a girl, but it had been heartwarming watching them together. By the light he had seen in Sam's eyes and the slight nostalgic smile on his face, the same memories of their own childhood were playing in his mind.

Both boys had endured every test for the supernatural that he and Sam had been taught, and they had passed them all with flying colors.

Finding them alive, unaffected by Eve's handiwork and being able to return them safely to relatives and keep them out of harm's way had felt great.

Saving innocents. Protecting them from evil. It was what the job was all about; before it had been complicated by Destiny, Angels, Demons, Heaven, Hell and the Apocalypse.

It had been a very long time since either him or Sam had felt that way.

Dean should have known it was too good to be true. Or to last.

Little Ryan had been experimented on by Eve, and had won the prize. Her experiments finally meeting with success. Ryan had been turned into the perfect monster; the ability to walk, live and interact with humans and other creatures. All the while being totally undetectable.

It didn't matter that there had been no way to detect what he had become. Or to even save him from the fate that had already befallen him.

He and Sam had been the one's who had let him go free.

Ryan had bitten and turned his brother and then they had killed their uncle. They themselves had been killed before he and Sam could get there; by of all things Demons. Which only added more chaos and unanswered questions to an already complicated and convoluted mess.

So, no. Dean wouldn't begrudge his brother his anger. He had more than enough legitimate reasons to lash out. Probably more than most. It was the rest of what he saw in his little brother's eyes that had alarm bells ringing and his heart racing.

Sam tipped his head, furrowing his brow in thoughtful confusion. "What I want to know is…._why_?"

The pleading vulnerability that had laced Sam's tone and the slight hitch in his voice would have been imperceptible - to anyone who hadn't been attuned to his every ache and pain for the past twenty-eight years.

Only Sam was capable of putting so many feelings and emotions into one simple three letter word. Suddenly it wasn't his twenty-eight year old, six foot four brother in front of him, but six year old Sammy looking to his big brother for all the answers.

And Dean still didn't even know what the question was.

"You're being a little vague there, bro," Dean said, forcing his voice to remain calm and dropping his tone to one he used only with Sam. He took a couple of steps away from the car he was leaning against, closing the distance between himself and Sam, mindful to not crowd his brother in the already tight spacing of the aisles. He kept his movements slow and non-threatening, trying to diffuse his brother's temper. "Gonna have to give me a little more to go on."

"_Vague_! I'm being vague?" Sam nodded his head, clenching his jaw shut, his lips drew into a tight line as he took a deep breath through his nose and blew it out. His hands fisted tightly, but he kept them securely at his sides, resisting the urge to go back to his original plan of simply beating some sense into his obviously thick-headed big brother.

Sam tipped his head, eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at his brother, shocked that he even needed to explain any of this. "Okay, how about this?"

"_What the hell were you thinking, Dean_!"

Sam's deep yell reverberated off the piles of wrecked, junk vehicles surrounding them. He unclenched his hands, running them agitatedly through his hair as he resumed pacing a tight circle.

"You know I know that you're not stupid, right?" Sam glanced at his brother as if waiting for an answer or seeking confirmation. Dean opened his mouth to offer up a response but Sam's continued tirade cut him off.

_Obviously that was a rhetorical question_, Dean thought wryly to himself.

"Far from it; your smart, cunning, calculating. Oh, and we can't forget stubborn and reckless. But _this_," Sam threw his hands up in the air, spinning back to once again look at his brother, " _this _was so far outside of reckless, I don't even think insane covers it."

Sam paused, waiting for Dean to jump in with an explanation, but all he received was an expression of confusion and bafflement.

Sam stared incredulously at his brother for a moment and felt what little control he had gained on his rising temper quickly evaporate, anger once again boiling to the surface at the realization that his older brother _still _didn't have a clue as to what he had done or why he was so upset.

"Sammy-"

"Don't You Dare!" Sam fumed, eyes sparking as he cut off what he knew would be some clever remark or sarcastic quip to brush the entire incident off, or worse yet, tell him that he was over-reacting, that everything was fine and to calm the hell down . "You don't have a friggin' clue as to what I'm talking about do you?"

Dean let out a breath he didn't even realize that he had been holding as he ran a calloused hand down his face. He figured that honesty was the best policy at this point. The only option really. Because, yeah, Sam was right. He didn't have a clue. Couldn't even begin to guess what he had done to get his brother this upset.

"No," he stated simply.

Sam interlocked his hands behind his head and huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Your new after dinner cocktail that you so nonchalantly drank? The phoenix ash whiskey shot! Ringing any bells yet?" Sam asked in irritated bewilderment, his arms gesturing wide in exasperated questioning.

"What the hell, Dean? Do you not realize just how dangerous that was?"

Dean saw the anger that had been fueling his younger brother drain away, his last words spoken in a broken, anxious whisper. Icy fingers gripped his heart as he instantly recognized Sam's anger for what it really was. He wanted to kick himself for his own stupidity of not realizing it sooner.

The tried and true Winchester method for dealing with fear; bury it deep and disguise it with anger.

Their eyes met and Dean's heart clenched tighter. He hadn't missed the pleading need for reassurance, the vulnerability, that had reflected in his brother's eyes in the unguarded moment before he was able to grab a tentative hold on his emotions.

Dean would whole-heartedly admit, he was never the 'caring and sharing' type. He sucked at saying how he felt, hated even admitting to having anything that could even remotely be construed as feelings. But with Sammy he would make an exception. He always did.

"Sammy, I'm sorry I scared you, man." Dean professed remorsefully. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you ahead of time."

"No, your not." Sam chided lightly. He felt the fury of the anger and frustration of before subsiding, rolling away in waves like the tides of the ocean. The intensity of the emotions having burnt themselves out as quickly as they had overpowered him.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walked over to lean on the trunk of the car. "You're not sorry you didn't tell me 'cause you know I would've kicked your ass and thrown you into the nearest jail cell for even thinking about something as stupid as that."

"You would've tried, little brother," Dean threw back, walking back over to sit on the bumper next to him. "Huge emphasis being on _tried_. You may be like eleven feet tall, but I can still take you down."

Some of the tension left Dean at the sound of Sam's quiet laugh. It wasn't much. But it was a start.

"I really am truly sorry that I couldn't've warned you, Sam," Dean said candidly. "It was a last minute decision. I was afraid that Mother of All bitch would pick up on even the slightest move."

"Besides," he said matter of factly, "I already knew it wouldn't hurt me. You explained how the phoenix ash worked while we were in the Panic Room."

"What…" Sam stammered, looking at his brother in wide-eyed shock. "Dean, that was a guess. I just-"

"-did that geek thing you always do." Dean finished. "That's all the confirmation I needed."

Sam hung his head as his eyes glazed over at the absolute confidence that he heard in his brother's voice and he shut them against the sting of tears that threatened to fall.

"I wasn't sure, Dean." Sam barely got the words past the lump that was building in his throat. His quiet confession tentative and uncertain.

"Sam…Sammy…look at me." Dean gently prodded his brother as he tipped his head forward to catch his gaze, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. "Your best guesses, hell your hunches, have never let us down. Have never let _me _down. That's all I ever need to go on. I trust you with my life, Sam. You know that, right?"

Sam managed a small nod as he hung his head, taking a deep breath to try to bring his spiraling emotions back under control. The realization hit him once again that after everything that had happened between them, every screwed up thing that he had done in the year leading up to him jumping into the Pit and his Soulless year after, had been not only forgiven, but forgotten.

Trust and confidence in one another had been rebuilt and restored.

Unbreakable and stronger than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

_First off, I would like to thank everyone who read, commented, added this to their favorite story list and story alert. I just recently figured out how to respond back, so forgive me if I missed someone. Your kind words and interest warms my heart and gives me that little extra confidence I need to continue writing. Thank you so much. _

_I read and reread this final chapter a hundred times before posting it. I was (and still am) a bit nervous about Dean's speech and the advice he gives to Sam; I hope it makes sense, doesn't sound like it's coming out of left field, and keeps at least a bit in character for Dean. _

_With that said, I hope you all enjoy!_

~ SPN ~

Dean sat quietly observing his brother, giving him the time he needed to pull himself together. He knew every one of his younger brother's tells; Sam's posture was a bit too slouched, his shoulders a tad too slumped. Dean didn't need to see through the long bangs obscuring his face to know that they had only just hit the head of the proverbial iceberg.

There was something else bothering him.

Dean nudged Sam's shoulder with his own. "What's this really about, Sam?"

" 'm fine," Sam shook his head and all but mumbled, looking up and glancing quickly at his older brother before fixing his gaze on the distant horizon. Sam blinked as what he was seeing clicked in his tired, somewhat hazy mind. The afternoon sun that had blazed high in the sky when he had first found his way out to the remote corner of the yard to vent his growing frustration was now settling. Dusk painted the sky in wispy shades of pink and orange. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Dean snorted out an incredulous laugh. "You wanna try that one more time? Only this time, let's pretend you're _not_ talking to someone who knows you better than you know yourself?"

Hanging his head, Sam shrugged one shoulder, kicking the dirt around underneath his foot with the toe of his boot.

"Talk to me, Sammy," Dean softly pleaded. His little brother looked so lost and confused that is broke Dean's heart. "What's got you this upset."

Sam scrubbed an unsteady hand across his face as he took a deep breath, trying to put his runaway thoughts into some sort of order that would make sense, desperate to find the words to make his brother understand.

Easier said than done when he couldn't even explain them all to himself.

Sam blew out the breath he had been holding very slowly, determined to keep his voice and emotions steady as the words finally came tumbling out.

"Except for that one sentence in a hundred year old journal, we had no proof, you know? Of anything. Sure, there was no immediate reaction when you spilled the ash on your skin, but ingesting it?"

Sam looked at his brother and shook his head. "We were weaponless, surrounded by Demons, Cas had no power and we were at the total mercy of a five foot nothing slip of a girl more powerful than the Angels."

"It's just, ah…," Sam cleared his throat, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat, but they still emerged as rough as sandpaper. He briefly met his brother's gaze, and Dean was taken aback by the shear anguish that he saw there.

"…when she bit your neck, all I could think of…all I could see…," Sam's voice wavered and nearly broke as he continued, and Dean didn't miss the barely contained shudder that ran through his little brother's body, " were those damn hellhounds dragging you away. I was helpless all over again."

"I get why you did it, Dean. I do. I really, really do. It's just…" Sam stopped, and ran his hands through his hair. As if in doing so he could grab onto the raging thoughts that were running rampant in his brain and hold them still.

"I can't loose you Dean. I won't. Not again." Sam's voice hitched and he drew in a shaky breath. "Not now."

Some distant part of Dean's brain told him he should be surprised that after all these years his brother still thought of him being dragged to Hell, though in his heart he knew he shouldn't be; Cold Oak and Stull Cemetery still gave him nightmares.

He supposed that seeing your brother be ripped to shreds by hellhounds, feeling his last shuddering breath as he dies in your arms or watching helpless as he willingly jumps into Hell while being ridden by Lucifer isn't something you ever get over.

Dean brought his left hand up to the nape of Sam's neck and squeezed gently, massaging the tense, rigid muscles; grounding him, giving his brother some of his strength to continue and the reassurance that he wasn't alone.

"I know," Sam let out a broken, wet laugh, "I'm being childish and irrational and selfish…that neither of us can even guarantee or promise something like that."

"But this wall," Sam tapped his head as he looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye, "when it falls, and we both know it's going to….I don't know if I can…I can't do it alone, man." _I don't want to do it alone_ echoed unsaid in his mind. An ironic smile briefly curled his lip. "I'm not too proud to admit that."

For the second time in as many minutes, Dean wanted to kick himself. Yeah, sure, Sam had promised that he wouldn't scratch at the wall, and Dean had never doubted him.

But he should have remembered that this was Sam, _his _Sammy, he was dealing with. And not scratching didn't take into account thinking about it; turning over every little tidbit of information that had been said about it, or the consequences and possible outcomes of what would happen if it ever fell.

Cause that what Sammy did. What he was best at. Analyze, investigate, research. Never giving up until he found the answer to the puzzle. Except in this case, the puzzle was himself.

"It's not irrational or childish, Sam. If neither of us had any fears and doubts after everything that's happened, then I'd really be worried. You are the strongest person I know." Dean held up his hand, cutting Sam off before he could even open his mouth. "Just listen okay?"

Sam nodded his head in silent consent, agreeing to hold his comments or rebuttals until later and let his brother continue.

"I'm not talking just about physical strength here. You've been having shit tossed at you since you were six months old, man. You've always handled it and come out the other side stronger and smarter. This will be no different. You-"

Sam's loud, bitter laugh interrupted Dean. "_I've handled it?_"

Sam pushed off the trunk of the car, he could feel the agitation once again growing in the pit of his stomach. His long legs ate up the dirt as he resumed pacing between the tight rows of cars. "Have you not _been _with me the last few years, Dean? I did a real bang up job of _handling _things myself."

Dean took two quick steps forward and spun his brother back around to face him, cuffing him upside the head with his hand. He grasped Sam's chin, giving his younger brother no other option but to look at him.

"Stop, right there! You here me!" Dean's attempt at his authoritative listen-to-me, big-brother voice came out harsher than he had intended. But he wasn't about to sit idly by and listen to his brother's self derision, berating himself for things that no one else held over his head and he should have forgiven himself for years ago.

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out his nose, a futile attempt at calming himself. His nerves were pretty much shot at this point and he was surprised that his heart hadn't burst from his chest with how fast it was racing. He needed to somehow get across to his stubborn, headstrong, pig-headed little brother, and make him believe, that he had the inner strength to beat this.

If he couldn't do that, then they had already lost.

"Now," Dean drawled, "You gonna listen to me and not interrupt this time?"

"Yes."

Sam's answer was a sheepish whisper. Dean had to hide the smile that wanted to form, only his brother could look like a puppy that had just been kicked. His "no chick-flick rule" had been tossed so far out the window that Dean was convinced that he'd never find it again. But that didn't matter. He'd suffer through a lifetime of these with no complaint.

Well, with a little complaint. For appearances sake only, of course.

Because he'd had the alternative and it was no contest. He figured it was a small price to pay to have his brother back.

Not that he'd ever tell Sam that.

He gently cupped the side of Sam's face before dropping his hand to his side. "Okay, so, yeah, the Demon blood, shacking up with Ruby, not some of your smartest choices, bro."

"But," Dean poked his brother in the chest with two fingers, "if you're going to bring up stupid things, then we're going to be standing here all friggin' night, 'cause I can match anything you can throw out."

Dean fixed his brother with a determined stare. "The past is the past, Sam. All that stuff has long been forgiven and forgotten. It's high time you forgave yourself. Understand?"

Dean could see the wheels turning in his brother's head as he mulled over what had just been said. Sam's brows were knitted together in deep thought and Dean could see the internal struggle being waged to finally accept that the past was indeed the past and needed to stay there.

"Yeah." Sam said quietly.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it." Dean joked sarcastically.

"Yes, okay. I understand, alright." Sam feigned exasperation as he waved his hand vaguely in the air. "It's all forgotten. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." Dean grinned. "Because I would have really hated to have to have tattooed that on the inside of your eyelids."

Dean maneuvered his brother back to the Mustang, turning him around and gently pushing him so he sat on the bumper. Dean took a seat next to him and rested his forearms on his knees.

He turned his head to face Sam, and his expression was open; all the masks and walls that Dean usually held in place were gone. This was the Dean that only Sam saw; honest, unguarded and sincere. Not the hunter or hustler or the hundred other hats that had been forced on him.

Just a big brother.

"Sam, it's not about the choices you've made, but how you've handled them. This," Dean leaned across and tapped Sam's chest, right over his heart, "this is your strength, your passion, right here. Azazel, Zachariah, Uriel…none of them could intimidate you or break you."

Dean locked gazes with Sam. "And Lucifer sure the hell isn't going to be the first. You beat that bastard already, Sammy. It wasn't physical strength that defeated that sonovabitch, it was what was right in here." Dean tapped his brother's chest again lightly. "It was what was inside you. You stuffed his ass back in the hole where he belongs. He won't hurt you ever again."

Dean sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hangs loosely. "You have always grabbed whatever has been thrown at you by the horns and faced it head on," Dean's mouth lifted into a smirk, "in that unique, stubborn, determined Sammy way. Which I gotta say, frustrates the hell outta me most of the time."

"You'll do the same thing this time. You're stronger than this. Don't you ever doubt yourself." Dean said earnestly.

Sam swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears that were flowing once again from turning into outright sobs. And yeah, he had already accepted that a week from now, when this was all just a distant memory, that he was going to be teased mercilessly about being such an emotional little girl.

He might have nodded, but he wasn't all that sure, he did know that words at this point weren't happening. He dropped his head into his hands, awed by the shear power and love of his brother's words.

Sam took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths and blew them out his mouth as he rubbed his fingers across his eyes, wiping away the tears that were blurring his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing down the overwhelming emotions as he fought for control. His brother still didn't seem to understand…didn't see it…

Sam lifted his head, his moisture rimmed eyes looking at his brother. He cleared his throat, buying him a couple of additional seconds to gather his thoughts before he laid the last of his cards on the table.

Not caring how it made him look. Only caring that his big brother finally understood.

"All that - my visions, Azazel, Lucifer- every time, every _thing _I went through…I wasn't alone. Not really ever truly alone. I got my strength, that inner strength you were just talking about…that I needed…from you. I knew that you were always with me."

"Well there's your answer then." Dean said simply and then let out an amused sigh at his brother's confused look.

"And people call me dense. You know for a super brilliant geek boy, you sure are slow on the uptake sometimes, you know that?" Dean said fondly.

"Just 'cause you are strong enough to beat this and are able to do is by yourself, doesn't mean you have to. Or you will. The two of us," Dean waved his hand between the two of them, the conviction in his voice as strong as iron, "we're stronger together, Sammy. That's been proved time and again. Nothing will ever change that again. And that's how we'll deal with this…together."

Dean paused thoughtfully for a moment. "You remember what you told me after that debacle of a hunt with those freaky-ass mannequins?"

Sam hesitated, thinking back all those weeks ago. He nodded his head as their conversation while Dean had fixed a previously possessed Impala came back to him. "That no matter what happened I was here for you. That I would always have your back."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the point his brother was trying to get across hit him full force. It wasn't as if in his heart he hadn't already known that, but apparently he had needed some reminding.

"That goes both was, Sammy." Dean's said softly. He own voice thick with emotion. "You will not face any of this alone."

"When," Dean stopped and shook his head, his voice taking on a razor sharp hard edge. "No. If. _If_, this wall falls, I promise you with every fiber of my being, I will do everything in my power to help you. To get you back safe and whole."

Sam could see the blaze of determination in his big brother's eyes and wondered why he had even been worried in the first place. That by shear force of will, because he was Dean Winchester and he said so, that Sam would be kept safe.

And Sam didn't doubt that for a moment.

"You do realize though, that I can't promise you no more stupid stunts, right? Cause, hell, this _is _me we're talking about." Dean's cocky grin was back in place for a moment before growing serious again. "But, Sam, I am not going anywhere. You hear me? Right beside you is where I belong and plan on staying."

Dean brought his hand back to Sam's neck, giving it a brief squeeze. "You understand? You good now?"

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I am. Thanks."

Dean held his gaze for a moment, searching and Sam sat quietly, accepting the scrutiny. Satisfied with what he found, Dean slapped him on the back, a grin once again curling his mouth. "Good, 'cause any more of this Oprah crap and you'll be wanting a manicure and pink frilly dresses."

Sam shook his head laughing, dimples and all showing.

So okay, maybe thinking Dean would wait a week before teasing him was a bit too much to ask for.


End file.
